


Bake It 'Till You Make It

by Tay (erentitanjaeger)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bakery AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Angst with a happy ending, Modern Fantasy AU, SHEITH - Freeform, allurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:19:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erentitanjaeger/pseuds/Tay
Summary: If Lance only knew Hunk was incapable of calming himself down.  If only Lance knew it wasn’t Hunk's own self control that allowed him to relax like he did; that times like these called for a little touch of magic.Keith always feels bad after using his magic.  Whether with good intentions or not, he doesn’t feel right manipulating someone’s emotions, yet as Hunk begins to sing to himself, his famous smile back on his face, Keith feels slightly better about his choice of helping his friend.It’s okay to want your friends to be happy, Keith tells himself.  It’s okay to use a little magic to help them get there.Until he meets Shiro.





	Bake It 'Till You Make It

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for Sochan! Thank you so much for allowing me to work with this amazing idea! It's been a wonderful experience!

Sugar. Flour. Vanilla essence. Cinnamon. Brown sugar. Self-raising flour. Yeast. Cream. Icing sugar. Marzipan.

All these ingredients lined up along the shelf beside Keith in perfect order.  Each one within easy reach of his fingers any time he desires them.  Or, more accurately, when the pastry requires them. 

The dough beneath his fingers gives and forms and breaks as he kneads it.  It’s thick and tough, the perfect dough for a good loaf of bread.  Keith can’t help but feel satisfied, feel victorious.  This is the first time he’s managed to successfully create the consistency for this type of bread.  Hunk always barking in his ear it was too soft, too wet, too dry, too hard.  Keith had worked tirelessly for almost three weeks, discarding batch after batch as he trained to get it right.

A few hours later, steaming rolls of fresh bread on display, Keith knows he’s finally done it.

“Got the hang of it then, huh? Newbie?”

Keith turns from the display stand towards Lance, whose lounging on the counter, swinging his legs.  Keith gives him a genuine smile.  Even Lance can’t seem to dampen his spirits this morning.

“Well, four…hundredth time’s the charm,” Keith says, walking back around the counter to join Lance at the register.  He bends down, checking on the cakes behind the glass, straightening one or two here and there, to be sure they’re perfectly set up for today.

“Sometimes I wonder why Hunk dared to hire a baking apprentice who has no baking experience, but then I remember you’re the perfectionist of perfectionists, and it all becomes clear.”  Keith knows Lance is teasing, though it took him a few weeks to catch on that Lance’s jibes are never vindictive.

“It helps that Hunk is such a good teacher,” Keith replies.

“’Good’ is one word for it,” Lance’s eyes go wide, distant, shuddering suddenly as supressed memories resurface.  “’Scary’ is another.”

Keith understands where Lance is coming from.  Hunk is a literal cinnamon roll.  He’s sweet and big and soft, and Keith knows Hunk would do anything to protect his friends from getting hurt.  Except when it comes to his bakery.  Then he turns wild, determined, and almost maniacally precise.  The lessons Keith undertakes are brutal, and only stop when Hunk can see that Keith has absorbed the information and can apply it in practice, which can mean their lessons can go deep into the night if Keith is having a slow day or isn’t paying attention.

But he can’t complain.

Would never complain.

Keith loves baking.  It’s the only thing he knew to do as a child, the only thing he enjoyed doing growing up, and if being terrorised under Hunk’s scrutiny is how he’s going to become the best at it, then so be it.

Besides, Keith has learnt to be thankful for every breadcrumb thrown his way, metaphorical or not, because of what he is and what he’s had to endure. Keith’s grandmother always said the world was never ready to know about _their_ kind.  Humans couldn’t even accept different shades of skin, how could they possibly think they’d ever be ready to know about magical creatures and their abilities.  Witch hunts, apparently, never went out of fashion.

Humans tends to burn out the strange, and the strange is only defined by what’s strange to the individual.

Apparently, Keith is strange to every individual.

“Hey, hey!” Hunk’s voice comes from the back.  He storms into the front, flour on his cheeks and in his hair, his apron smeared with pink and green icing.  “We open soon!  No time to dawdle!  Lance, I want that chalkboard out the front!  Keith, those breakfast loaves better have their correct price stickers! We don’t need a repeat of last time!”

“Huh? Hunk, calm down! We don’t open for another thirty minutes,” Lance tries, still sitting on the counter, still swinging his legs.

“Calm down?  How!?” Hunk grabs Lance’s shoulders out of nowhere, their faces now pressed together.  “Thirty minutes is nothing, Lance! What if something spills and we have to clean it up?  What if an accident happens outside and we have to talk to the police?! What if my croissants burn and we have no croissants for the morning rush!? A lot can go wrong in thirty minutes!”

Lance, scared out of his mind, can’t think of what to say to get through to his friend, only sits there, gaping, terrified of saying anything. 

“Hunk.” Keith says his name with a finality, a ringing in his voice, and gives Hunk a pointed look.

“What, Keith? What now!? What…” Hunk’s voice trails off as he locks eyes with Keith’s.  His shoulders slowly sag, his fingers relax as he releases his hold on Lance.  It takes a few moments, but eventually, Hunk lets himself breathe, apologises to them both, and calmly returns to the back of the shop to check on his croissants.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Sheesh!” Lance quickly breaks it.  “I love that boy and all but I’m glad he’s finally learning to get a lid on his little outbursts!  They can be bad for the skin.”

Keith only nods as Lance heads outside to set up the chalkboard like Hunk had asked. 

If Lance only knew.  If only he knew Hunk was incapable of calming himself down.  If only Lance knew it wasn’t Hunk, or any emotional response caused by any human, that allowed him to relax like he did.  If only Lance knew that times like these called for a little touch of magic.

Keith feels bad.  He always does after using his magic.  Whether with good intentions or not, he doesn’t feel right manipulating someone’s emotions like he can, especially his friend’s.  Yet as Hunk begins to sing to himself while he sugars the croissants, his famous smile back on his face, Keith feels slightly better about his choice of helping his friend.

It’s okay, Keith tells himself.  It’s okay to want your friends to be happy.  It’s okay to use a little magic to help them get there.

Keith knows the guilt won’t fade for some time.

\---

It’s midday on the dot when the little bell above the door chimes.  Keith doesn’t need to look up from where he’s counting yesterday’s receipts to know who it is.  Without a second thought, he reaches under the counter and dumps a tray of cupcakes in front of the person.  He sees one disappear, lifting off the tray floating out of his line of sight.

“Keith, have I ever told you I’m so glad we’re friends?” Allura says, elbows on the counter, white hair spilling around her shoulders as she lets the cupcake glide into her mouth and swallows it whole.

“Do you mean you’re glad we’re friends or you’re glad we’re friends and I work at a bakery where I can sneak you free desserts?”

Allura has to swallow around a mouthful of frosting before she can mumble back at him: “The latter.”

Keith rolls his eyes, though gives her a fond look in return.

“How’s the bread taste this morning?” She asks, glancing over her shoulder at the, now, almost empty display rack that was once filled with Keith’s loaves of wholemeal bread.

 “Princess!” Before he can answer, Lance emerges from the back, wiping his hands off with a towel and throwing it over his shoulder. 

“Hello, Lance,” Allura says, quickly grabbing the cupcake that had been hovering by her head.

“It’s always a pleasure to see your lovely face!” Lance leans on the other side of the counter, across from Allura, a strange smile on his features. 

Lance has explained to Keith it’s his ‘special’ smile he saves for the ladies, made to make him look suave and mature.  Keith has told him it just makes him look sick and like he’s about to vomit, and maybe that’s why doesn’t get any dates.

“I wish I could say the same for you,” Allura promptly replies.

“Princess!  You wound me!”

“You’ll live,” Allura turns from Lance, her attention back on Keith.  “Well?”

Lance gives him a quizzical look, almost accusatory.

“She’s just asking how the bread is going.”

To that, Lance lets out an impatient huff.

“Someone bought a loaf this morning, came back two hours later for another.  Said it gave his ninety-year-old mother the energy to get out of her chair for the first time in almost a decade.  Another, an author, did the same.  He said thanks to the bread, he found the motivation to finish his manuscript.  A manuscript he’d been working on for over five years.”  Lance shakes his head in disbelief.  “What’d you do, newbie? Spike it with caffeine?”

Keith tries not to look nervous.

“Something like that,” he mumbles.

Allura gives him a grin.

Keith suspected his loaves might have this effect on their customers, but he hadn’t realised how effective it would be.  He’s almost scared of how prominent his own magical abilities seem to have manifested this time. 

“It would be weirder if we hadn’t been getting comments like this for months now,” Lance continues.  “Somehow, everything Newbie bakes means someone else is coming in and telling us his bread pulled them out of a bad mood, or his croissants gave them the courage to stand up to their boss.  I don’t know what he does, but it’s weird!”

Keith bows his head, letting his hair frame his face to hide his expression.

“I think it’s wonderful,” Allura says.  Lance only makes a few more jibes about Keith’s baking, flirts with Allura some more, than disappears into the back to finish his eclairs.

Once they’re both sure he’s out of hearing range, Allura turns to Keith, a cautious expression on her delicate features.

“So, you’ve been feeling good these past few weeks then?”

“Well, I did,” Keith mumbles.  “Before I realised I’m not getting any better.”

“It’s not your fault, Keith,” Allura tries to reassure him.  It’s not working.

“I just wish there was some way to know if I’m doing anything right.  If I’m even getting a little better at controlling my magic.  Every time I think I’ve got it, this happens, and I realise I’ve wasted weeks, even months, doing the wrong thing _again._ ”

“You’re not affecting me now?” she tries.

“It’s easy to control in person, but for some reason, when I bake, it’s out of my hands… _literally!”_

Allura is silent, unsure what to say to comfort her friend.

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing,” she offers.  “You love baking.  You’re happy when you bake.  What’s so wrong about sharing a little of that?  So what if you bake your emotions?  So to speak.”

“It’s artificial, Allura.  It’s not real.”

“Tell that to the ninety-year-old woman who got to try something new today.  I think she’d tell you her happiness is very real.”

He knows Allura is only trying to cheer him up, to make him not feel so bad about how little of a handle he has on his abilities.  It’s not her fault it never works.

“Sometimes I wish I had your magic,” Allura tries again.  Keith will give her points for her resilience.  “So, I could make you feel better about yourself.”

“I wish I had your abilities,” Keith replies, “So I didn’t have to pick up a cupcake to eat it.”

Allura’s cheeks turn pink as she takes another bite of a cupcake floating in mid-air, frosting on the corner of her mouth.  She swallows, laughs nervously, then picks up the cupcake and eats it normally.

\---

It’s late in the afternoon.  Golden sunlight is streaming in through the shop’s front window.  It’s close to closing, and Keith is wondering whether he should start packing up now or in fifteen minutes.  He knows it’s unlikely anyone will visit the bakery in that time, but if they do, he’ll only have to unpack the cakes again.

Keith is about to do it anyway, when the little bell chimes.  Keith breathes a quiet ‘thank God’ that he hadn’t started packing away the cakes after all, looks up to see a man looking over their left over bread rolls, and promptly feels his heart stop in his chest.

He’s tall, really tall.  Muscular and brawny, thick arms covered in tattoos, a silver cross dangling from his neck.  His hair cut is slightly odd, all shaved and short except for the white tuft on the top of his head.  Studs lining both ears.  Yet despite the exterior, Keith can only find kindness in his eyes. 

Maybe it’s the sunlight, making it slightly warmer inside the bakery of an afternoon thanks to all the glass windows, or maybe it’s the sandwich Keith had for lunch (he suspected that chicken was off), but looking at him, at this burly man with the kind smile and grey eyes, causes Keith’s stomach to flutter and his heart to quicken.

The man makes his way over to the counter, slowly taking in all the cakes and specials they have, when he looks up and meets Keith’s eyes.

“Hi there,” he says, in what is probably the softest and charming voice Keith has ever heard.

Keith can only nod in response.  Thankfully, the man doesn’t think him rude, or if he does, doesn’t mind.

“Did you bake all these?” he asks, voice so genuine it hurts.

Keith shakes his head.

“Just sell them then?”

Keith can’t look away from this man.  Can’t seem to break their eye contact, despite how little Keith seems to be able to respond. 

There’s very few people in Keith’s life he’s _wanted_ to love him.  His mother and father were kind people, but were busy, so didn’t have the time to love him like he wanted.  His grandmother took care of him, and try as she might, she would have never been able to make up for their absence. 

There was his first high school crush, who Keith had fallen for so inexplicably, so irrationally, he had begged his grandmother to transfer him, rather than dealing with the emotions and what they may entail.  There was his college professor (before he dropped out).  Keith hadn’t liked his major, but he had liked that particular subject, and wanted his professor to like him only so he would have someone to talk to about it.

There were his very few magical friends who, besides Allura, only liked him out of a sort of kindred spirit, a comradery.  There were only so many of them left, they couldn’t afford to not like one another.

Now, there’s _him,_ and Keith wants this man to like him so fiercely he can’t explain it, though he desperately wishes he could.  Keith looks away, unable to hold this man’s eyes for very long without feeling open and vulnerable.  He feels like there’s secrets about himself this man is reading that Keith himself doesn’t even know.

The man continues to browse in silence.

It’s a few more silent seconds before Keith realises that, when he’s not looking at this man, it’s infinitely easier to speak to him.  Keith can imagine he’s talking to Allura, or Hunk, rather than a complete stranger he’s somewhat become infatuated with.

“I baked some of them,” he says.  His voice is small and quiet, but as it’s silent within the shop, it feels like he’s talking into a megaphone.

“Really?” the man asks, voice full of excitement.  “Which ones?”

Keith slowly looks up again, and then motions to the brownies and the cupcakes. 

It’s quiet between them, in which Keith sneaks a look at the man’s face through his hair.

“I’ll have one of each.”

Keith tries to hide how loudly his heart is beating in his chest.  He moves to package the cakes.  Wrapping them carefully, sliding them into a paper bag and then passing them over the counter. 

The man goes to take it, and the sunlight reflects on his silver fingers. 

Keith knows it’s rude to stare, but he does anyway.

“Oh, sorry,” the man quickly amends, retracting his arm and using his other, which is still human.  Keith’s eyes dart to the man’s face.  He doesn’t look hurt, just resigned, as if this is nothing new.  Keith feels guilt cloud his senses instantly.

“No!” he cries, maybe a little too loudly.  “I mean…I wasn’t…I just…”

To Keith’s surprise, the man laughs. 

It’s beautiful, like wooden wind chimes hanging from a porch, swinging in a crisp, spring breeze. 

“It’s okay,” he says, though his voice is still filled with a kind of resignation Keith wishes the man didn’t have to wear.  “You didn’t mean anything by it.  It’s a shock, I know.”

Keith wants to ask.  Burning curiosity is filling his veins, but he has enough social etiquette to know it wouldn’t be nice.

The man hasn’t taken the bag yet, and in an act of bravery Keith will never be able to explain, he reaches across the counter and takes the man’s metal hand in his own, positioning it so it’s flat, and placing the bag into his fingers.  Once he’s straightened and looking the man in the eyes again, he realises what he’s done, but clenches his jaw and holds his ground.

He’s glad he does, because the smile he’s rewarded with is blinding.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The man turns and leaves without another word, and as soon as he’s gone, Keith let’s himself take a huge breath of relief, leaning heavily against the counter.  His knuckles turn white with how hard he holds the edge, but he can’t bring himself to let go, for fear of toppling over right onto the bakery floor.

“I saw that.”  Keith whips his head around, Lance leaning against the kitchen’s door frame, smug look plastered on his features.  “Not really how I would have gotten his attention, but I’ll give you points for originality.”

Keith knows he’s bright red, but will continue to deny it, especially in front of Lance.

“It’s not like that!  He was just a customer!”

“Dude, I deal with hundreds of customers a day and I never go out of my way to hold their hand.  Unless it‘s Allura, but she never actually buys anything when she’s here.”

Keith tries to hide his face, bowing his head.  He bites his lip, nerves still causing his skin to sing.

“Don’t worry, man!” Lance pats Keith’s shoulders comfortingly.  “He definitely liked you!  I won’t be surprised if we see him again real soon!”

“Really?” Keith asks with disbelief.

“Yeah!  After all, you forgot to ask him to pay.”

Keith blinks, shocked, quickly running through the events that just transpired and realising with soul crushing defeat that Lance is right.

“Shit!”

\---

“I’m just saying, you could have fun with me!”

“Or I could end up spending the night watching you flirt with any other female that walks by.”

Keith continues to listen to Allura and Lance bicker while he carefully dots his cake with swirls of frosting. 

“Baby, I’m not like that!  I promise!”

“I watched you flirt with three different women in the span of ten minutes just this morning.”

“I’m casting a very wide net.”

“If it’s so big then it’ll be easy for me to see and avoid.”

 “Fine! Don’t go out with me!” Lance ends in a huff, storming over to bother Keith.  “I hope you’re having better luck than I am!”

Keith gives Lance a glare.

“It hasn’t even been a day,” he mumbles under his breath, trying very hard to hide his disappointment. 

He had been hoping, distantly, that perhaps the man from yesterday would realise he hadn’t paid.  That he would be here the moment the bakery opened, apologies on his tongue and money in his hand.  Then Keith could smile, take his money, and maybe talk to him a little more.  Yet it was nearing the afternoon once again, and no such luck.

“I told you he likes you!  He’ll be back.  You’ll see,” Lance insists, jumping up onto the counter.  His swinging legs distract Keith and he messes up a frosting bud.  He carefully carves it off and tries again.

“Who likes you?” Allura demands. 

“Nobody likes me!” Keith messes up another frosting bud in his irritation. 

“Keith was flirting yesterday,” Lance provides.

“Why am I only hearing about this now!?”

“Because I wasn’t flirting!” Keith gives up on his frosting buds when he realises the conversation he’s being dragged into.  He dumps the icing bag next to the cake and stretches his arms above his head instead, trying to loosen his joints.

As if having been summoned, the bell above the door chimes, and in walks the man of the hour.  This time, he’s donned a leather jacket, and grips a motorcycle helmet in his hand.  His hair lies flat against his forehead from where the helmet would have pressed it to his scalp.  Yet even with helmet hair, he looks good.

Keith lowers his arms, dumbfounded at the man’s return, though tries to quieten his quickening heart.  He tells himself to keep his budding hope under wraps, that there’s nothing to be excited for.  This man is kind, Keith tells himself.  Of course, he wouldn’t want to steal from an independently owned bakery.

“Watch this,” Lance whispers, motioning Allura should hide with him behind the kitchen’s opening.  She follows eagerly. 

This time, the man doesn’t stop to browse the cakes or marvel at their selection of bread, instead, he walks right up to the counter, right up to Keith.

“Hey again,” he says, voice soft and gentle as ever.  Keith’s heart skips a beat.

“Hi,” is all Keith can muster.

“So, funny story,” the man begins, scratching the back of his neck, looking almost ashamed.  The skin across his nose turns an endearing shade of pink.  “But I think I forgot to pay for those cakes yesterday.”

Keith doesn’t know how to react or what to say, so only nods shyly. 

Luckily, the man smiles in return, lowering his hand.

“They were really good by the way.  The cakes, I mean.  This will sound strange, but it’s almost like they gave me a weird energy; I finally cleaned out my closet, which I’ve been putting off for months.”

Keith, still unsure of how to act toward this man, just blinks dumbly.  He feels stupid.  He knows he looks stupid; he’s just not sure how to snap out of it. 

“Yeah,” Keith tries, forcing his voice to form any words at all.  “I’ve been told…that they do that.”

The man is still smiling at him.  Keith feels his face warm under the soft gaze.

“Did you bake anything today?” the man asks, voice full of kindness. 

Keith shifts, looking over the various cakes.

“I made the eclairs, and more cupcakes.” he says in response.  There’s a moment of silence where Keith isn’t sure if he should go on or not, but figures it can’t hurt.  “Cupcakes are sort of my specialty.”

The man’s gaze flits to said cupcakes on display, the pale blue frosting dotting the chocolate bundles, the small sugar flowers Keith dotted them with, even the small, pink beads that sit delicately amongst it all.  Keith is fairly proud of this particular batch, feeling they radiate the warmth and giddiness he felt while baking them, the budding excitement for something new; or someone new.

“I’ll take two,” the man requests. 

Keith, trying his best not to fumble, carefully wraps two of the cupcakes and, in another act he’ll never be able to explain, once again reaches across the counter, takes the man’s silver hand, and places the bag carefully in its palm.  This time, the man seems ready for it, and smiles at Keith almost gratefully.  Grateful for what, Keith isn’t sure, but he’s glad his little motion seems to be well received.

This time, the man pays, handing over the appropriate amount for today and yesterday’s treats. 

“Thanks, and again, sorry about yesterday.  I promise I don’t normally steal from tiny, adorable bakeries.  I guess I just got…distracted.”

Keith hopes to God he’s not imagining it when the man gives him a pointed look when the last word leaves his lips. 

“It’s okay.  We all do it,” Keith offers.  The man cocks his head and raises his eyebrows, and Keith can only think ‘cute’ on reflex.  “Get distracted, I mean.”

Keith’s cheeks are definitely bright red now, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. 

“Yeah, well,” the man turns to leave, adjusting his helmet in his hand as if to go put it on.  “Maybe I’ll come back and be distracted again tomorrow.”

This time, Keith knows he’s not imagining the pointed look, the almost raised eyebrow, as if the man is silently asking, ‘if that’s okay?’

Keith feels like a school girl when he bows his head, tucking his hair behind his ear, trying not to let the sound of his heart be heard as he replies.  “I’d like that.”

The man gives Keith one last smile, nods, and heads for the door.  Keith waves him good-bye through the shop window, hoping from that distance, his bright red cheeks won’t be so noticeable.  When Keith can’t see the motorcyclist anymore, is sure he won’t be noticed, he lets himself collapse against the counter again.  His breathing comes hard through his lungs, as if he just went for a light jog, rather than had a pleasant conversation with a perfectly lovely stranger.

Though the man can’t be considered a stranger anymore.  He came back, and not just to pay, but Keith is certain the man came back to see Keith.  The thought fills him with happiness, makes his stomach flutter with butterflies and his heart fill with air. 

“What was _that!?”_ he hears screeching behind him.  Keith jumps, having totally forgotten they had an audience.  Allura is clutching at his shoulders, bright, blue eyes wide with excitement.  “Keith!  You were totally flirting!”

This time, Keith knows he can’t even deny it, because he totally was.

“You know what’s even more amazing?” Lance says, clapping Keith on the shoulder in a congratulatory gesture.  “Biker man was flirting _back!_ ”

“He was?” Keith clutches Lance’s words to his heart, almost unable to believe them. 

“Hell yeah!  Trust me, man, I am a master of the heart.”

Lance’s words were now losing all credit, so Keith looks to Allura.

Allura ignores Lance’s indignant squawk to giggle and nod frantically, assuring Keith that yes, for once, he read the social cues correct, and that man really had been flirting with him.

“And he said he’s coming back _tomorrow?_   Keith, when you flirt, you flirt good!”

“He’s been watching me this whole time!  Learning under my tutilidge!” Lance mocks a sniff.  “I’m so proud.”

“Yes, he was watching you and learning what _not_ to do,” Allura remarks.

Keith doesn’t hear much of their continued bickering after that, his mind far off, on the back of a motorcycle with a man who is, as he stands there, driving home now to eat his cupcakes.  Keith finally understands what it means to be on cloud nine.

\---

When the man returns the next day, Keith learns his name is Takashi Shirogane, but prefers to be called Shiro.  He’s twenty-six.  He leaves with one of Keith’s chocolate croissants.  The next time, Keith learns Shiro loves biking and lives for his own bike; a sleek, second-hand Ninja Shiro basically re-built himself.  He leaves with a cinnamon swirl. 

By the end of the week, Keith can recognise the sound of Shiro’s bike pulling up from down the street, and pre-packages his treats at the ready.  It doesn’t mean that Shiro leaves any faster though.  If anything, he only seems to stay longer, asking Keith about what he’s been baking, the lessons he has with Hunk.  Keith asks about Terror, Shiro’s job at the children’s hospital (of course, he’s just that perfect) and what plans he has for the weekend.

“Well, I’m actually going on a date,” Shiro answers. 

Keith feels his entire heart freeze over, his mind clouding, and not with the usual pink fog Shiro normally brings with him, but a cold mist Keith can’t find his way out of.   He tries not to panic, while he continues to push cream into profiteroles.  More than anything, he tries not to cry.

“Oh, great,” Keith forces himself to say, to carry on their casual conversation.  He can feel Lance and Allura’s burning gazes from behind the kitchen doorway.  The two still haven’t stopped spying on Keith’s day-to-day chats with Shiro, though seem to have stopped bickering so much, united in their desire to see this play through.

Keith is sad to tell them it was an extremely short play.

“Yeah, I thought I’d take him to the beach.  There’s a fair going on at the docs, and I wanted to pack a picnic for dinner.  Maybe go for a ride on my bike after, if he’s into that.”

Keith thinks anyone would be crazy not to be into a ride with Shiro.

He cusses as he spills cream onto his fingers.

“Good for you.”

Keith hates that his answers have turned cryptic and short.  He doesn’t want to be one of those people; the kind of people who cut off a friendship when they find it’s not going in the direction they had hoped.  Shiro is still a wonderful guy, Keith reminds himself, and it will still be fun to be his friend.

Keith forces himself to look up into Shiro’s eyes.  His beautiful, warm, dazzling grey eyes that Keith had been sure were looking at him the same way he had been looking at them.

He wants to blame Allura and Lance for getting his hopes up, but knows at the end of the day, it’s his own fault for not having asked Shiro out sooner.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” Keith busies his hands, wiping off the cream and picking up the tube and a pastry to try again.

“I’m looking at him,” Shiro answers simply.  Keith squeezes too much cream into the ball of pastry.  It oozes out of the hole and over his hand, making a mess once again.  He can’t bring himself to care.  “So, would you be into that?”

Cream continues to flow from the tube and all over his hand, dripping onto the counter, but Keith is beaming as he nods enthusiastically at Shiro, his chest bursting with fireworks all over again.

\---

The beach is beautiful.  Keith can’t remember the last time he had visited the small, seaside town that resided next to their city, but he’s glad he’s visiting again with Shiro.  The ride over is exhilarating.  Keith has never been on a motorcycle before, but is no coward when it comes to thrill rides.  Shiro is impressed with Keith’s bravery, and tells him so as they head toward the spinning rides and flashing lights of the fair grounds. 

Keith tries not to blush, thinking he was past that stage, though found he certainly wasn’t when a large hand is placed on the small of his back, leading him toward the games. 

It‘s fun.  The most fun Keith has had with anybody in a long time.  Shiro’s laugh is contagious, and he laughs at so many things.  The juggling artist.  The fun house.  The petting zoo.  Keith quickly learns Shiro is just a little kid in a grown man’s body, and he couldn’t be more smitten if he tried.  Shiro loves to watch all the attractions of the fair, and shares his love and wonderment with Keith, yet Keith can’t stop starring at Shiro.

He wonders how anybody can be filled with so much unadulterated joy, and what it means that he can now be a part of sharing that? 

“Do I have something in my teeth?” Shiro suddenly asks while they’re collecting their food and heading toward the beach to eat. 

Keith blinks up at his date, confusion evident in his features.

“No?  Your teeth are fine.” Perfect even.

“Really?  Because you haven’t stopped staring at me since I picked you up.” 

Keith knows there’s no fighting his blush now.  He fumbles for a reason to explain his creepy behaviour, sorting through excuses and stories that would seem plausible without him seeming like he’s obsessed with his date.

Even though he kind of is.

“I just think you’re really beautiful.”  For some reason, Keith has opted for the truth.  He’ll never know why.

Or maybe he will, when Shiro fixes him with an honest and genuine smile, so bright and open, Keith’s heart beats erratically against his ribcage in response.

“You’re gorgeous, yourself,” Shiro tells him, voice soft yet still loud enough to be heard over the crashing waves.

This time, when Keith goes to hide his smile, he fights it, hoping to give his date the same openness and fervor he was gifted with before.

They eat their food while discussing favourite movies, books, music, games, anything and everything they can think of.  Keith tells Shiro a little about his childhood growing up, and Shiro shares in response.  They trade stories of their parents, of their education, and of their history with love, both familial and not.

Then, Shiro surprises Keith by opening the picnic basket he brought, displaying a row of, though slightly sad looking, nonetheless sweet cupcakes Shiro says he baked himself.  Keith laughs, loving the gesture, but it stops short after he takes a bite.  He wants to swallow, out of pure politeness more than anything, but it’s so hard when he’s never had to hold something so horrible in his mouth.

“Are they really that bad?” Shiro asks, surprised, but thankfully not hurt. 

“Yeah, they’re bad,” Keith is laughing though, wiping his mouth and taking the bottle of water offered to him.  “Like, really bad.  You shouldn’t be in a kitchen. Ever.”

Shiro takes a bite of a cupcake himself, and then vows there and then to stay away from all cooking appliances and tools from here unto eternity.

“Well, maybe I could teach you how to bake,” Keith offers.  It would be almost too good to be true, sharing his one true passion with this amazing man who has fixed himself in Keith’s heart almost overnight. 

Shiro gazes softly at Keith, his hair whipping against his face in the sea breeze.  His eyes seem to reflect the light of every star they sit under.

“I’d love that.”

\---

After that, everything seems to flow.  Like a river Keith’s never been down before, but one he recognises like he’s been following it everyday of his life. 

For their second date, they go to the drive-in cinema.  It’s weird watching a movie from the seat of a motorcycle, but Shiro makes a good back rest.  He’s warm and comforting as Keith takes the chance to lean against Shiro’s chest, tracing the grooves in his prosthetic arm wrapped around his waist and slipping popcorn between Shiro’s lips over his shoulder. 

They share their first kiss as Zac Efron and Zendaya serenade each other on the giant screen in front of them.

Their third date, Shiro takes Keith to the aquarium.  He knows some of the people working there and manages to get Keith close enough to the seal tank so he receives a very wet, very stinky kiss from one.  Shiro laughs as he helps Keith wipe the moisture off his cheek, then replaces the kiss with one of his own.  Keith thinks it worth it, especially when Shiro holds him under the vibrant lights and tells him he’s beautiful once again, a thousand different fish as witness.

Keith bakes for Shiro at home, where they both end up covered from head to toe in flour and egg, but share a plate of (successful) cupcakes on the balcony while watching the golden rays of the setting sun disappear behind the view.

At work, Keith continues to practice his craft, more passionately and determined than ever before.  They receive endless praise and compliments for the extra sweet pastries, the moist cakes and crumbling croissants.  Everyone has something different to say, but at the end of the day, it’s all the same.  Keith’s pastries have begun to grow a reputation, where everyone feels light, like their floating on air, even after just one bite.

The bakery soon becomes famous for it, and they have a line out the door everyday from morning until well after closing.

Shiro, of course, gets a skip-the-line pass.

After three weeks, Shiro takes him up to the roof of his apartment building, where he’s laid out blankets, pillows and a gourmet dinner with the best wine Shiro could find, for a midnight picnic under the stars.  They can only see a few, the rest invisible due to the city lights, but then Shiro takes Keith’s hand and pushes him down gently, showing him all the constellations hiding behind his eyelids, under heated kisses and frantic movements of lips and tongue and limbs.

Apparently, the mood is contagious.

“You’re actually going out with Lance?” Keith asks incredulously. 

Allura nods, though with a kind of excitement and finality he hasn’t seen her use towards his friend before.  He suspects she’s rather excited to see what kind of guy Lance is when he drops the overly-bravado façade.

“I think watching you and Shiro taught him that sincerity and honesty is the key to the heart.  I only agreed because he finally stopped treating me like one of the many, and actually started treating me like a human.”

“Look whose learning from who now!” Keith across the room, his turn to fix Lance with a smug look.

Lance doesn’t even bother to poke back, owing Keith too much to pick on him anymore.

Allura giggles at Lance’s pinched expression.

“So, when are you seeing Shiro again?” she asks, once Lance has turned away, back to writing today’s specials on the chalkboard.

Keith feels an all too familiar ice fill his gut.  His hands stop what they were doing, shaking, clutching at wrapping paper as he tries to will away the feeling.  He coughs out a laugh to hide his sudden mood change, disguising it further with a smile.

“Uh, eventually,” he says, going back to wrapping brownies.

Though Allura has been his friend for far too long to miss the sudden drop in Keith’s enthusiasm.  “That’s a very reluctant ‘eventually’.  What’s going on?  I thought you guys were good?”

 “We are.  We’re great.  Perfect even,” his words sound fake even to him, even though they may be true.

“Keith,” Allura says.  Her voice is gentle, and Keith knows she’d back off if he really wanted her too. 

Keith takes a deep breath. 

“How do I tell him, Allura?” he fixes her with a pained expression, one filled with a pre-emptive heart break.  “How do I tell him I’m a witch?”

Allura pauses, turns toward the front of the shop, and waves a finger at the row of flower pots outside so they topple over, spilling dirt across the welcome mat.  Lance sees it, cusses, and leaves to clean up the mess.  Once they’re alone, she turns back to Keith, giving him her full attention.

“It’s that serious, huh?”

“It’s getting there,” Keith doesn’t want to cry at work, especially when they’re so close to opening and handling the morning rush.  “But I know the longer I wait, the harder it will be to tell him.  He’s been so accepting of everything about me up until this point, but I have this horrible feeling that this will be too much for him.  That he won’t want to deal with dating someone like me.”

“You mean someone cute?  Handsome?  Someone who’s a talented baker? A great friend?  Someone smart, and sweet and –“

“Allura.”  He doesn’t mean to cut her off, and he knows she’s only trying to cheer him up.

Allura’s expression softens to a kind of pity they both recognise all too well.  The kind of pity they both deal with on a day-to-day basis, from each other and their fellow magical community.  It’s the pity that comes from knowing that, once again, what they are is the cause of losing what they love.

“Keith, I know you’re scared of telling him, and it’s so brave of you to even want to tell him in the first place.”

“I don’t think I could ever go through my life being with someone who doesn’t accept what I am,” he says with almost a rehearsed kind of determination.  “But I don’t want him to hate me for it either.”

“Not to sound cliché, but if he really likes you, really wants any kind of future with you, he won’t even think twice about loving every part of you.  Magical or no.”

Keith knows she’s right, knows that if Shiro chooses to leave him, there’s nothing he can do to stop him.  Pretending to be someone he’s not around someone he is growing to love so fully is out of the question. 

This knowledge doesn’t stop his hands from shaking at the thought, the paper between his fingers crinkling and folding in a way that ruins the packaging.  He throws it out and starts again.  The bell above the door chimes as Lance returns from outside, glaring at the flower pots as if daring them to fall over again.

“Just do it quick.  Like ripping off a band-aid.” Allura tries, her voice full of an optimism Keith wishes he could borrow.  “Like this.  Hey Lance!  I’m a witch.”

Lance stops in the doorway, his fingers frozen in mid-air where he was trying to get the dirt out from under his fingernails.  He gives them a look of utter shock, and both Keith and Allura watch, with bated breath, as a thousand thoughts and emotions fly across his eyes.  The silence seems to stretch on for an eternity.

“O…kay,” he says eventually, slowly, eyes still wide with shock and surprise, though they can see him trying to mask it.  “We’re still going out this weekend, right?”

Allura nods gives him a comforting nod and a heartfelt smile.

Keith stands there, dumbfounded.

Could it really be that easy?  Would Shiro really accept him with such an open-mind?  With the kind of nonjudgmental understanding Lance did for Allura?

He swallows, knowing that there’s only one way to find out.

\---

Shiro is taking Keith to a movie that night, so they agree Shiro will pick Keith up after work so they can grab dinner beforehand and make a plan of attack to sneak in snacks.  Keith decides he’ll tell Shiro as soon as he walks through the door, as soon as they’re alone together.  Allura’s words ringing in his ear, like ripping off a band-aid, Keith just wants it to be over with.

He’s run through the conversation in his head a thousand times, sometimes even voicing his lines aloud to strangers who give him concerned looks before leaving abruptly.  Despite the usual rush of customers that continuously stream through the door, it feels like the day stretches on forever.  Keith messes up more orders than he cares to admit, Hunk even asking if he’s feeling ill and wants to go home early.

When it’s finally time for shut down and clean up, Keith’s nerves are on fire.  His hands haven’t stopped shaking since that morning, and they’ve only worsened now.  He hasn’t been able to eat all day, constantly feeling like he’s going to throw up.

“You’ve got this, man!” Lance is trying to comfort him.  He must be in a good mood, because he even offered to cover Keith’s closing duties so Keith can concentrate on remaining calm until Shiro arrives.  “Shiro’s totally gonna be cool with it!”

After Allura’s proclamation, it was only natural that Lance know about Keith as well.  They then played ‘guess the ability’, until Keith got tired of it and just told Lance outright what he could do.  Lance felt slightly bitter he couldn’t blame Keith’s impeccable baking on magic, instead of just hard-earned talent.

Keith has lost the power of speech completely however, only remaining a ball of frazzled nerves as he sits and waits for fate to deal his hand.  Keith can only pray for the ace of hearts.

“But I thought you said you can control emotions,” Lance is saying as wraps the remaining bagels to take home with him.  “Can’t you just make Shiro cool with it?”

Keith is shaking his head before Lance has even finished that question.

“It’d be artificial, fake, forced,” Keith’s voice is quiet and strained as he talks.  “It’s kind of like putting a veil over someone’s eyes, so they see things in a different way to how they truly feel.  Sometimes, once the veil is removed, they don’t question it and go back to living their life.  Other times, it can only enhance the emotion the veil was hiding.”

Lance listens with a patience Keith has never seen him wear, and is grateful he doesn’t press the matter further.

Shiro walks in several minutes later, smiling that perfect smile he always greets Keith with, holding a box in his hand.  He says hi to Lance, before beelining for Keith.  They share a soft kiss, and Keith hopes like hell it’s not their last.

“How was your day?” Shiro asks gently.

“Long,” Keith says.  Shiro gives him a confused look.  Keith only wrings his hands in his hoodie, unable to look Shiro in the eye.

“Well, I’ll just be in the back if anyone needs me,” Lance announces, giving Keith a knowing look.  Keith nods.  They both wave Lance good-bye.

Then they’re alone.  The sun setting, casting golden light into the shop, much like that first day they had met all those weeks ago.  Keith clings to the memory like a starving man, remembering how he felt that day, how infatuated with Shiro he had been, and how that infatuation had grown to a deep respect and mutual admiration.

He won’t lose this, Keith’s tells himself, _promises_ himself.  He can’t.

“Before we go to dinner,” Keith starts, gathering his courage.  “There’s something I have to talk to you about.”

“Yeah, I figured we needed to talk,” Shiro says.  Keith’s heart jumps, picking up speed, his nerves now a hotwire throughout his body.  What could Shiro mean by that?  Did he already know?  Did he guess?  Keith tries to think of when he might have let it slip, when Shiro could have possibly guessed what Keith is.  “We’ve been doing this for a while; this dating thing.  It’s been a lot of fun, the most fun I’ve had in a long time, but I don’t want to continue being friends with you.” 

Keith’s stomach drops and his eyes sting with tears.  So Shiro did find out.  He found out and now he’s dumping Keith.  He should’ve known someone like Shiro couldn’t love a witch like him.

“I’m not saying it’s been a waste of time, if anything, I’m glad we had this time together before.  It’s been a great comfort to me,” Shiro continues.  Keith doesn’t want to hear it, but stays, figuring he owes it to Shiro, and to himself, to give him a proper good-bye.  At least Shiro is a gentleman about it, just as he is with everything he does. 

Then Shiro kneels, one knee on the floor, looking up at Keith with a smile and a sparkle in his eye.  Keith blinks, utterly confused.  Shiro holds up the box he was holding to Keith in one hand, the other poised to open it.

“So, Keith, if you’ll let me, I would love if you became my boyfriend.  Officially.”  Then Shiro opens the box, and is inside is a fully baked, fully iced, delicately decorated cupcake.  It’s not on Keith’s levels yet by any means, but it’s a thousand times better than the first cupcakes Shiro had bought with them on that first date.  Keith wants to bet it tastes better too. 

After the initial shock, Keith’s face splits into a wide grin.  He can’t help the laugh that bubbles up through his throat as he gently takes the cupcake out of the box, peels back the paper and takes a bite.  He gets frosting around his lips, but Keith doesn’t mind as his tongue sings with the perfectly balanced cocoa to sugar ratio he can taste.  The frosting is thick but creamy, and the swirl it forms on top of the cupcake is pleasing to the eye.  Keith is filled with pride that Shiro has learnt so much, and from _him._

Shiro waits with bated breath, still kneeling below Keith.

Keith swallows, then leans down to place a very sweet, frost covered kiss to Shiro’s lips.

“With cupcakes like these, of course I will,” he says gently, and Shiro lunges up to cup Keith’s face, deepening the kiss.  Keith throws his free arm around Shiro’s shoulders, letting their tongues graze and lap the remaining frosting off their faces. 

Shiro holds him tight, kisses the corner of his mouth and eyes and forehead, fingers digging into the small of his back.  Keith can’t remember a time he’s felt so _wanted_ , so adored.  It fills him with no end of joy. Keith laughs as Shiro rubs their noses together in an endearing gesture, unable to even remember why he had been so wound tight only moments before.

There’s footsteps as Lance walks back into the front of the shop.

“See?  I knew he wouldn’t care you’re a witch!”

And just like that, Keith remembers.

He wishes he couldn’t feel Shiro’s arms freeze around him, wishes he couldn’t feel the soft kisses to his face stop immediately.  He wishes Shiro wasn’t pulling away from him, and he wishes with all his heart the look on Shiro’s face wasn’t that of confusion, contempt, and anger. 

“You’re a witch.”

Keith wishes Shiro was asking, if anything to make it seem softer, like Keith wasn’t currently being judged for his very blood.  Keith can’t do anything but gape up at Shiro, and will for his anger to dissipate, so they can go back to seconds before, when Keith had a happy boyfriend and was being smothered in thankful kisses.

He thinks back to his conversation with Lance.  He could just make Shiro forgive him, make Shiro be okay with it, but even as he thinks it, Keith knows he would never do it.

Not to Shiro.  Not for this.

He nods, his fingers gripping Shiro’s arm, willing him to stay.

He hears the ‘oh shit’ muttered from Lance before he scurries into the back of the store.

They’re alone again, and for the first time since they met, Keith wishes they weren’t.

“You’re a witch,” Shiro repeats, and Keith feels all the adoration Shiro once had for him leave the room like smoke out a window.  Keith feels his heart sink with the sun behind the buildings, casting an eerie grey light into the room. 

“Y-yeah, I am,” Keith’s voice cracks and drops.  His hands are shaking again. 

There’s a silence between them, tension so thick Keith could bake it into a loaf of bread. 

“What kind of witch?” Shiro asks.  Keith can’t read his voice, only that it’s not happy, or joyful, or full of the gentleness that made Keith’s heart beat and his face go pink.  Because of the shadows, Keith can’t read Shiro’s face, and it scares him to his core.

“I…can…” Keith has to swallow around the growing lump in his throat, fighting back the returning tears.  “I can manipulate emotions.  Kind of.”

Shiro finally releases him and steps back.  Keith instantly feels cold.

“’King of’ or ‘can’?” Shiro asks, his voice on the defensive. 

“C-can.”

Keith doesn’t want to look up into Shiro’s eyes, knowing that once shining silver will have formed into a thick steel meant to keep him out.

“So, this whole time?” Shiro’s voice is filled with hurt and heartache.

“No!  I’ve never once used my magic on you!” Keith leaps to correct Shiro.  He can’t have Shiro believe he’d ever be manipulated like that, he won’t.  “I only use it for small things!  I use it on Hunk when he’s having a mild panic attack, or on my neighbour when she won’t stop talking to me and I’m late for work.  I’d never use it on you, especially for something like this!”

There’s a silence between them, and it seems to stretch on for hours.  Keith can’t breathe properly, and he can’t stand under Shiro’s judging gaze for much longer, but he also can’t move.  He’s not sure what to do, or how to fix this.  When he finally looks up into Shiro’s face, he’s fixed with a pained look, like Shiro very much wants to believe him, but doesn’t.

Shiro turns his face away, looking at the bread that’s yet to be packed away, as if he physically can’t look at Keith.  While looking at the bread, Shiro’s eyes flicker, realising something.

“What about all those customers?” Shiro suddenly asks, angry again, his voice accusatory.  “Did you make them believe your baking was really that amazing?  Did you make _me_ believe that?”

Keith’s heart is shattering in his chest where he stands.

“I don’t…” Keith swallows again, his gulp audible in the room.  “I don’t have the best handle on my magic.  I can handle it when it’s face to face but sometimes a little…slips out…while I’m using my hands.  I kind of bake my emotions into the pastries.”

If Shiro didn’t hate him before, he does now.  Except his eyes fill with a deep hurt, a growing wound re-opened. 

“So, this is a lie?  All of this?  You made me like you.”

Keith wants to run, to hide.  “No, it’s not like that!”

“I’ve been eating your cakes almost everyday since we first met!”

“Yeah, but…”

“I knew this was happening too fast!  I knew something felt off!”

“Shiro, please…”

“I can’t believe you,” Shiro is devastated, that much, Keith can tell.  He’s hurt and he’s wounded and Keith knows there’s nothing he can do to make it better.  Because what if he’s right?  What if Shiro never really liked him?  What if he had subconsciously been feeding Shiro the pastries and cakes and loaves of bread he made every day, all so Shiro would fall in love with him? 

What if Keith really is as horrible as Shiro says he is?

There’s nothing more that can be said.  Keith can’t watch as Shiro leaves, his boots loud on the floor as he storms out, taking Keith’s heart with him.  Keith still clutches the cupcake in his hand, a piece missing.

\---

For a week, Keith doesn’t show up at the bakery.

He lies in bed, buried under his blankets.  He can’t eat, can’t drink, can barely rise to go to the bathroom and brush his teeth.  Worst of all, he doesn’t bake.  Can’t bring himself too.  Even at home, where the only danger is to himself, he can’t make himself knead butter into puff pastry or fold cream into chocolate mousse.  He feels sick at the thought of decorating cakes or even scrambling eggs. 

On the occasion he eats at all, he orders food in and swallows without tasting.

He would have stayed like that forever, if it weren’t for the fact that his funds were running low and expenses were due.  Keith glares at his bills, hating that the world continued on around him unaffected, when he’s lying here with a broken heart. 

He returns to work the next day.

Hunk isn’t mad he missed an entire week of work with no notice, just overly understanding.  It only makes Keith feel worse, and he vows to make up for the lost time by working unpaid overtime. 

That goes as well as is to be expected.

The once overly lavish praise they had for their pastries turns into vehemence and poisonous complaints.  People complain their bread tastes stale, even when it’s fresh from the oven.  Some say they swear they can taste cough medicine, or even alcohol, in their danishes.  While others straight up accuse them of poisoning the cakes.

Hunk, still unaware of Keith’s abilities, can only apologise and fuss over what could possibly be wrong.  Lance carefully suggests Keith stay behind the register until he’s feeling better.

Keith hates that he’s right.

He thought baking would help.  He thought getting a routine back would tire him out and help him sleep at night, yet every time he has to mix batter or knead dough or frost a cake, he’s only reminded of all the cakes and bread he had gifted Shiro.  No routine on earth will make him forget those steel eyes piercing his soul and ripping out his heart.

Allura tries her best to cheer him up.  She comes in everyday, like normal, but she brings treats and games and cat videos saved on a YouTube playlist.  She even floats cakes and tools around the place when no one is around, making pens dance with each other and bread loaves wrestle in mid-air.

It doesn’t work on Keith, but Lance has a good time.  It’s his first time seeing his girlfriend in action, and he loves every minute.

“When did you two start officially dating?” Keith asks one afternoon, when Allura has agreed to stay with Keith as he does his overtime.

“Oh!  That…well,” Allura’s face is dusted with pink, her eyes darting away.  “Lance kind of asked me a few nights ago, actually.”

Keith nods, giving her his congratulations.

He doesn’t need to ask why he wasn’t told, because the answer is obvious.  While he’s happy for his friend, he does feel the jealousy she were trying to prevent. 

There’s also something else hiding beneath his skin he can’t quite name.

Then, come Valentine’s day, Lance shows up at the shop dressed ridiculously in a white suit and top hat, a bouquet of pink roses in his hand, serenading Allura with ‘Burning Love’ obnoxiously belted into a microphone connected to nothing.  While, normally, watching Lance make a fool of himself would give Keith no end of amusement, this time, a different emotion comes to the surface and he pieces it together.

He’s angry.

If Lance can accept Allura for who she is without a second thought, why can’t Shiro accept him?  Even if he thought he had been manipulated into liking Keith, Shiro owed it to Keith to stay around and find out.  He owed it to Keith to believe when he said none of it was intentional.  Keith loved baking, had told Shiro his whole life story about how he had grown to love it, and had wanted to share that with someone he might have loved just as much.

He hates that he was made to think he was wrong for that.

The next time he tries baking, it tastes burnt, despite the sourdough being perfectly cooked through.

It continues like this for days, and he’s no longer listening when he’s told to stop, or to do something else.  He bakes with a behemoth sized anger in his heart, a burning hatred.  While his productivity is through the roof, their sales plummet, and soon comes a day they’ve never faced before, a day when no customers walk through the door.

“Okay, Keith,” Allura says, voice firm.  She’s never feared him, only feared hurting him, but as she explains his anger and frustration is now hurting the people he loves, she’s ruthless as she commands him to stay out of the kitchen and away from the oven.  “Let Lance handle your share for now; he’s getting better.  You can trust him!”

“No, I can’t,” Keith argues, his voice thick with emotion.  “I’m fine.  I’m handling it.”

“You aren’t!  That’s why I’m telling you to take a break from baking.  It’s not forever!”

“I won’t stop doing something I love,” Keith pushes, though he can feel himself breaking.  “If no one likes my baking, tough luck!”

“You have no excuse to run Hunk’s business into the ground just because you hate Shiro.”

“I don’t hate Shiro!  I hate myself!”

Allura doesn’t speak, doesn’t argue with him, only stares, struck and dumbfounded, as Keith tries not to cry in front of her.  It doesn’t work, and Keith feels the last of his resolve to keep it together shatter onto the floor.  Thick tears fall from his eyes and roll down his cheeks.  He hunches over the counter, great sobs wracking his body.

He doesn’t see Allura walk behind the counter, so is surprised when he feels her arms wind tight around him and push his face into her chest.  She holds him close and pets his hair, shushing into his ear.  It’s comforting and familiar.  They haven’t shared a hug like this since his grandmother passed away over three years ago, but he’ll be damned if he rejects it now.

“Why?  Why am I like this?” Keith sobs, broken and wrecked, getting snot all over Allura’s shirt.  “Why do I have to be like this, if it means I can’t have Shiro?  I’d choose to give it all up in a heartbeat if it means he’d love me.”

He knows what he’s saying is wrong, and horrible, and self-deprecating, but he can’t help but voice the thoughts that haven’t stopped swimming through his head all week.  Somewhere along the way, that anger toward Shiro only turned into anger toward himself, burning and unrelenting, sitting in Keith’s gut like a smouldering fire. 

“It doesn’t work like that,” Allura says softly into his hair.  “Because if you gave up your magic so he’d love you, he’s not loving every part of you, only the parts he chooses to see.  That’s not how it works, and I’m sorry, _so_ sorry, this is the reason he won’t be with you.”  Keith sniffs against her, and lets Allura rock him like a child.  “It’s not worth it, Keith.  What you’re doing to yourself, and to everyone around you, it’s not worth it.”

Keith takes a deep shuddering breath.

“You might not be loved by who you want, but you have my love, almost all of it,” Allura vows, and if Keith didn’t know any better, he’d say Allura could manipulate his emotions too.  For once, his stomach rests, his chest doesn’t ache, and his muscles finally relax where they feel like they were seizing for days on end. 

Suddenly, there’s another set of arms wrapped around him, thin and bony.  “Mine too!” Lance speaks, maybe too chirpy considering the situation, but Keith finds he doesn’t mind.  “Probably not as much as Allura’s, but you are my rival.  I can’t not kind of love you, or I wouldn’t wanna beat you so bad!”

Keith laughs, though it’s thick with snot and tears, it’s the first time his chest has felt so light in a long time.

“I love you too, man!” His feet lift off the ground as Hunk squashes all three of them into a bear hug.  “I don’t know what you guys are talking about, but I love you as hard as I can squeeze you!”

Which is very hard, apparently.  When Hunk releases them, Keith quickly checks for broken ribs. 

“Thanks, everyone,” Keith tells them, looking at this ragtag team of people he can truly call his friends.  “And I’m sorry.  I know I have to stop.”

Hunk claps a large hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it!” His voice is full of reassurance.  “This bakery isn’t going anywhere!  The kitchen will always be here for you when you’re ready to come back!”

Keith gives him a grateful nod.

So, Keith does stop, and like Allura said, it’s not forever.  He still bakes at home, if anything, just not to fall out of practice, and resigns to doing register and cleaning work for the foreseeable future.  At least he still gets to spend time at the bakery, and with all his free time, ends up tutoring Lance when Hunk can’t.  It doesn’t work, only because Lance still won’t listen to him.

Things settle down, Keith stops thinking about _him_ almost exclusively, and while it still hurts, Keith can feel himself healing.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

“Are you _sure_ you can handle it?” Hunk asks him for what feels like the millionth time.  “I can ring Lance to help you.  Or stay a little longer!  I don’t mind!  My grandmother will understand!”

Keith hushes him. “Lance is at that musical with Allura; they’ve had those tickets for weeks, and I’m not letting you be late to your family dinner!  They flew all the way here, just for you.  I’ve closed the shop a thousand times before.”

“Yes, but-“

“No ‘buts’!” Keith pushes Hunk toward the door, ushering him out.  “Go enjoy your dinner!  Say hi to your family for me!”

Hunk, while still giving his bakery a longing look, eventually concedes and gets into his uber.  Keith waves him off, then returns inside, flipping the sign on the door to ‘closed’ as he does.  He knows Hunk loves this place, and that dip in sales a few weeks ago almost put him out of business, but since Keith had stepped out of the kitchen, their customers had slowly returned and things were back to normal.

Almost.

At least all Keith has to do tonight is take the loaves for tomorrow out of the oven, wrap the left overs and place them on sale, and double check all the doors are locked when he leaves.  Nothing he hasn’t done before.

Keith has finished wrapping the last of the apple pies when the belle above the door chimes.  Keith is perplexed, clearly remembering having turned over the sign so no other customers would come in.  When he turns around to tell them so, he wishes he had just locked the door entirely.

“Hi there,” that all too familiar voice is music to Keith’s ears, and he internally berates himself for still being so smitten under it.

Shiro’s face is unreadable.  Keith goes back to wrapping pastries, even though there’s nothing left to wrap.

“We’re closed,” Keith says, not quite resentful, but bordering on frustrated, and definitely hurt.

“I know, I saw the sign,” Shiro says.  “I just saw you in the window.”

Keith feels his blush return, the one Shiro always seemed to ignite in him no matter what.

“Okay,” Keith says coldly.  “We’re still closed.”

Keith grabs the pen they keep by the register and starts writing price stickers.  He busies himself with numbers and labels while Shiro awkwardly shuffles closer to him.  Keith wishes he would just leave.

“Can we talk?” he asks, shy like. 

Keith stabs a hole in a price sticker.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Keith hates that he wants to, though.  He wants to hear what Shiro has to say, but knows nothing good will come of it.

“Well, how about I talk and you listen?  If you don’t like what I have to say, I’ll leave,” Shiro tries again.  Keith doesn’t look up, only continues to fumble with tags and cakes.  He knows he’ll only have to redo all of this, but if he’s not doing something, he’ll only go crazy.  It’s silent, Keith neither agreeing nor disagreeing with Shiro’s proposal, so Shiro talks anyway.  “I’ve never known a witch before, so to find out you were one was, far more than just surprising.  It was a lot to process, especially after all those weeks together.  I thought I knew everything about you, but clearly I didn’t.  Still don’t.”

Shiro’s words don’t dampen the fire in Keith’s stomach, only ignite it, because everything Shiro is saying is something he’s heard thousands of times before.  Keith drops his pen, turning to Shiro, and decides it’s his turn to talk.

 “I’m sorry,” Keith says, standing his ground, and braving what he should have said weeks ago.  “I’m sorry you found out the way you did.  I’m sorry there’s a chance the feelings you had for me might not have been real.  I’m sorry for a lot of things, but I’m not sorry for what I am.”

Shiro’s eyes flicker with an edge of surprise, but Keith continues before he’s interrupted.

“I’ve spent a lot of time hating myself, for what I am, for what I can do, for what I can’t do,” Keith’s voice is the sturdiest he’s heard in a long time, especially in front of Shiro, and he wills himself not to lose his bravery.  “But, if there’s anything I learnt from what happened between us, it’s that being a witch, and my magic, is a huge part of me.  I learnt that, every time I was abandoned or shunned, I wasn’t angry at them, or the world, I was angry at myself, for not being something they wanted me to be and now I’ve learnt that’s no way to live.”

Shiro’s eyes grow wider as Keith talks, as if he’s impressed Keith has come to such a revelation in only a short amount of time.

“So, I won’t be sorry anymore.  I won’t be angry anymore.  I’m a witch, and to be perfectly honest, I like _being_ a witch.  My ability might not be something cool, or awesome, or fun, but it’s me.  It’s mine.”

“But it’s not because you were a witch that I was mad, or even that you kept it a secret.  I still have my own secrets, after all.”  There’s a moment where Shiro doesn’t say anything, and Keith wonders if he’s done, before Shiro takes a deep, shuddering breath, the kind of breath you take before saying something you thought you’d never have to.  “I never told you this, didn’t know if I wanted to, but I got left at the altar.”

Keith freezes, eyes widening, his turn to be surprised.  Shiro is giving him a pitiful look, not for Keith but for himself.  Keith would recognise that look anywhere, the kind of look he wears himself too often to be normal.

“It was after my accident,” Shiro gestures with his metal arm, “a little after my recovery.  My rehabilitation was going well, and I figured that because he had stayed through the whole ordeal, he’d want to stay forever.  So, I proposed, and four months, one week later, I found out forever to him was not the same as forever to me.”  Keith isn’t sure how to respond to all this.  “I’m not telling you this to get brownie points or for you to feel pity for me; I’ve made my peace with it.  Just saying, I know what it’s like to be judged for something out of your control.”

Now, more than anything, Keith is just confused.  “So why did you leave?” he asks, finding his voice.  He might not want to hear the answer, but knows he has no choice but to find out, or he may never find his own peace.

“I left because I was scared, for several reasons, but mostly because of what you can do,” Shiro admits. 

“I told you,” Keith tries, “I told you I never intentionally used my magic on you.”

“Intentional or not, there was still a chance that what I was feeling, what I felt for you, wasn’t real.”  Keith admits, there is a possibility of that, and it has filled him with no end of guilt since.  “And I felt a lot for you, Keith.  One of the things I was so scared of.  I tried dating a little after what happened, and it didn’t really work out, so when I met you and I liked you enough to want you to be my boyfriend, I was terrified.”

Suddenly, Shiro’s little question from all those weeks ago and the giant gesture he had performed just to ask it, means so much more to Keith.  He just wishes it still meant something to Shiro.

“I felt a lot for you too,” Keith can only say, because if he doesn’t say it now, he may never get the chance.  “I don’t connect with people often, but the connection I felt with you was so powerful it felt tangible.  It’s why it was so easy to bake into all those cakes.”

Shiro meets his eyes.  “Do you still feel anything for me?”  The question throws Keith off.  Why would Shiro be asking that, if he didn’t want to be with him?  If their relationship was over?  “Something I realised a few days ago, just took me a while to work up the courage to come see you; it’s been weeks since I last ate your cakes.  Now I don’t know how powerful of a witch you are, but I figured that was enough time for the effects to wear off.”

Keith is still giving Shiro a perplexed look.

“I still like you, Keith.  A lot.  And I miss you so much.  You’re funny and passionate and, emotional manipulation aside, an amazing baker.”  Shiro’s face is slowly forming a bright smile, the kind Keith loved seeing when Shiro saw a dog on the street, or a funny commercial on tv, or even when he looked at Keith.  Keith’s face is entirely red now.  “So, if you’ll let me, if you’d overlook my jack-assery and give me a second chance, I’d love if you still became my boyfriend.”

Keith’s entire body has gone numb with shock.  When Shiro walked through the bakery door, he thought, at the very least, he’d leave with a bittersweet apology and a heartfelt good-bye.  He never though this would become of their confrontation. 

It’s quiet between them, the sun, once again, casting golden light upon them as it begins to set. 

“I don’t know,” Keith starts, voice quiet.  Shiro begins to look worried, almost hurt, so Keith decides to alleviate his pain and gives him a wide and genuine smile.  “You didn’t bring me a cupcake this time.”

Shiro, once he realises Keith is only joking, gives him a grin in return and reaches across the counter to cup Keith’s jaw in his hands, brushing Keith’s cheek with his thumbs, both human and padded. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll bake them together.”

The kiss makes Keith’s heart soar and his body sing.  Shiro’s lips are just as soft as ever, and the hands cradling his face are so gentle it makes him ache.  He clutches Shiro’s leather jacket, pulling him as close as the counter between them will allow.  There’s no tongue, and there doesn’t need to be for Keith to feel all the love and adoration Shiro feels for him, and for Keith to give in return. 

When fingers start roaming hair and the kiss deepens so Keith is beginning to climb over the counter on his knees, Shiro suddenly parts.  There’s a thin trail of wet connecting their lips, broken when Shiro speaks.

“Is something burning?”

Keith is confused, before sniffing the air.  “Shit!  The bread loaves!”

He jumps from the counter and races to the kitchen, yanking open the oven door.  He’s met with a cloud of black smoke, the smoke alarms screaming at him as he fumbles to find oven mitts, dragging the metal tray from the oven and dumping it on the nearby bench.  Shiro is there too, coughing and spluttering, but turning the dials to the oven and waving his arm frantically, trying to dissipate the smoke.

When it clears, and the smoke alarms quieten, they’re both left starring at a large chunk of charcoal that is nothing close to bread.

“Hunk is going to be furious,” Keith says, voice dismayed, all the excitement and joy he had felt from earlier leaving his body. 

“Can’t you bake them again?” Shiro asks.

Keith remembers all the chaos from over the past weeks, how he had hurt not only Shiro and himself, but Hunk and his business too.  He and Shiro might have reunited, but that doesn’t mean his wounds would have already healed, and he doesn’t know enough about his magic to be sure he will be able to produce quality work once again.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, giving Shiro a scared look.  Luckily, Shiro reads him easily, and gives him an easy smile.

“Well, we have all night,” Shiro shoves his jacket off and rolls up his sleeves, forearms on display.  “I’ll do all the physical work, if you lend me your expertise.  Hunk will never know.”

Keith returns Shiro’s smile, and before they get to work, rises up on his tip toes to give Shiro a grateful kiss, so happy it won’t be their last.

\---

At first, it’s hard for Shiro to get back in good with his friends at the bakery.  Hunk is fairly forgiving, Lance relents over time, but Allura is unyielding.  She likes to make a show of pointing sharp objects at Shiro and have them follow him around.  Keith promises its more of an empty threat than anything, but he can still see how nervous it makes Shiro when the bread thermometer grazes the back of his neck.

Eventually, Allura concedes, and gives Shiro the second chance Keith has, though it comes begrudgingly and with the unspoken promise of eternal pain if he ever breaks Keith’s heart again.

Seamlessly, however, Shiro fits pretty well into their group at the bakery, and shows up almost as much as Allura.

“Wait, you do magic shows?” Shiro asks, as Allura files her nails down while sitting at the counter.

“Of course, how else can I use my magic in public without people burning me at the stake.  I just claim it’s some pansy, misdirection trick, put on a show for the kids, and the parents eat it up.  I get paid too much for just making stuffed animals dance around for an hour.”

“How much is your rate?”

Allura raises an eyebrow at him. “Depends.”

Allura ends up working for free when Shiro explains they’re in need of new entertainment for the kids at the hospital, their usual entertainer usually being booked out these days due to growing popularity.  Keith goes along too, cupcakes fresh and ready, a heaping spoonful of happiness thrown into each one to help the kids feel better.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Keith asks Shiro nervously, watching as the kids watch with rapt attention as Allura tells stories using one girls flying pony toy and another’s astronaut doll, their faces smeared with crumbs and frosting.

“Sometimes the happiness is there, lying underneath,” Shiro says, wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist.  “They just need a little something to bring it up to the surface.”

Keith smiles, leaning up to share a private kiss with his boyfriend while the kids laugh and poke fun as Allura reaches the resolution of her story.

Things seem to continue smoothly, with one added exception.  Keith doesn’t allow Shiro to eat any of his pastries.  He won’t have a repeat of their feud, and even if Shiro assures he really does love Keith, if his feelings begin to wain or fade, Keith won’t be the one responsible for making Shiro stay if he truly doesn’t want to.

It doesn’t stop Keith from trying.  Allura suggests that the best way to stop baking his emotions, is to intentionally do it in the first place, which is why he started giving his treats out to the children at the hospital.  He sends a batch with Allura to her birthday parties, and even with Hunk when he takes a vacation and visits his parents over the summer.

He’s not sure if it’s getting any easier, but it’s not getting any harder, so Keith figures Allura’s advice might be working.

It’s one year and almost two months, a little while after Keith and Shiro have moved in together, when Shiro returns home after a rough day at work.  He’s sore, and tired, and only wants to sleep, but he had already promised Keith a date night, and didn’t want to make his boyfriend sad by going back on his word. 

It’s then he notices the pile of cupcakes sitting on the counter.

Figuring they’re for one of Allura’s birthday parties, he sneaks one away and pops it into his mouth whole.  It’s not that Shiro wants to fake being happy around Keith, but he also doesn’t want Keith to suffer from his mood.  A little helping hand, or a helping cupcake, won’t hurt, he figures.

Once he’s swallowed, deposited the wrapping in the trash and fixed the cupcakes so it doesn’t appear like there’s one missing, he goes in search of his boyfriend.  Keith is splayed out on their bed, arm thrown over his eyes, pants off and shirt sitting up around his chest.

“Bad day too, huh?” Shiro asks gently, toing off his shoes and settling on the covers beside Keith.  He carefully wraps his arms around Keith’s tiny waist and brings him closer, kissing his bare stomach.

“Some customer complained we messed up her wedding cake order.  Her wedding is tomorrow, and said needed a replacement before she left in the afternoon.  We had to close early and make another so she could pick it up on time.  We lost half a day of business, and the cake looks no different to the one we made the first time, but she insists this one is perfect.”

Shiro chuckles against Keith’s skin.  Keith heaves a sigh before removing his arm and placing his hand gently on Shiro’s head, playing with his tuft of white hair, tracing the lines of the tattoo poking out from under his shirt. 

“Hey, at least it’s over now,” Shiro says, placing one more kiss to Keith’s ribcage before making his way up to kiss Keith’s lips instead.  Keith hums.

“Thank god,” Keith whispers, not letting Shiro go very far from him as they kiss more.  “I just came home, baked some cupcakes out of frustration, and took a nap.”

Shiro laughs, because only his boyfriend would prefer to bake first, rest later.  He lies beside Keith for a time, letting the silence envelop them both.  There’s a kind of peace to be had, knowing you can lie beside your beloved and don’t need to exchange words to know the other is thinking about you. 

Shiro picks his head up, suddenly realising what Keith had just said.  “Wait, you baked those cupcakes when you were mad?”  Keith opens his eyes, looks to Shiro and nods. “The ones in the kitchen?” Keith nods again.

Shiro remains quiet, letting that knowledge, and the ensuing knowledge of what it entails slowly sink in.  As it does, a wide grin grows over his features.

“Keith, they tasted amazing.”

Keith still lies there, confused.  Shiro compliments him all the time, he’s just not sure why this time is different.  Shiro only continues to look at him, eyes lidded and smile turned overly fond, before it slowly hits Keith too.

“They tasted fine?  Really!?” Keith sit up in excitement, making Shiro follow.

“Better than fine!  Delicious!  Perfect!”

Keith kisses his boyfriend, and Shiro kisses back with an unadulterated enthusiasm, one hand on Keith’s thigh, while Keith winds his fingers tightly in Shiro’s collar.

“I did it?  I really did it? I didn’t make them taste horrible with my mood?”

Shiro laughs, shaking his head, kissing Keith again so he can taste for himself just how good and sweet those cupcakes are.  Keith hums, no longer tired, abuzz with the realisation that after so long, he’s finally getting a handle on his abilities.

It’s contagious, and Shiro can feel his previous lethargy melt away in place of his celebrating Keith’s new triumph.

“I’m so proud of you,” Shiro says against Keith’s lips, voice filled with adoration.  “I love you, baby.”

Keith can’t stop giggling, but between his laughs that cause him to shake with giddiness and the unrelenting soft and wet kisses Shiro gives to him, he finds it’s so easy to admit the same.

“I love you, too.”

“Promise me you’ll never stop doing what you love?  For everyone, for me, for yourself.”

“I promise.”

There’s suddenly no desire in either of them to leave the bed, as they’re both filled with emotions of devotion, passion and a love so real even Keith couldn’t bake it.

**Author's Note:**

> You can sure as hell bet Keith was at the altar three hours ahead of time.
> 
> Find me on twitter @KinkyKeithy!


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